Glass Houses
by menteuse
Summary: femmeslash- Xion/Namine implied Namine/Larxene "She looks back to her companion, face blank and unblinking, sitting docile in her chair. Her face is wet, along with the rest of her body, but her eyes are red and that tells her all she needs to know."


**_Author's Note: One-shot. Review please. That is all._**

"_No_, I'm not upset or jealous or _anything_. There really is no reason to be", she insists softly glaring at her artwork rather than her interviewer. Despite her dulcet tone, she is becoming rather irritated with the other girl's questions. She knows she is concerned, but _still_.

Xion looks up from her meal of cold pizza and diet, fizz-less soda, (a half baked attempt of hospitality on her companion's part) before grabbing it and walking across the small apartment to the window.

_Really, then I guess that makes you almost as big of a liar as she is, _is what she wants to say, but she can't bring herself to do it. Instead, she opens the window and lets the Pepsi or Coke or whatever it is she's drinking drizzle down to the pavement below, where it'll become someone else's problem.

Naminé looks up from her work, and wipes her face with the inside of her wrist, leaving a smear of dark colored paint in its wake. Xion looks over her shoulder, her eyes immediately locking on to the dark smudge that just doesn't look right on someone so pale. She retrieves a napkin from the table and hands it to Naminé.

"You know," Naminé says, her voice emotionless but her eyes a bit sad, "There is a saying. I believe it was about houses made of glass. . .".

She grabs the napkin from the darker haired girl and goes to the bathroom to get cleaned up. For a moment, Xion questions if Naminé can read minds and decides against it.

—

Done with her studying, she slams the book shut, and rests her head against the cool back cover. It hasn't been five minutes of quiet before her sibling bustles in the door with his bag slung over his shoulder and his sweat making his shirt stick to him in odd places.

"The elevator", he pants, throwing his belongings to the ground. "It's out again".

Xion doesn't look up but she hears him sigh and flop into the nearest chair. "Where's Axel? You were supposed to be with him today, right?"

She can practically hear his face screwing up. "I called Saix and Demyx, they haven't seen him since class got out. . ."

Xion sits up, neither her voice nor her expression betraying any of her feelings. "You should call Larxene," she says slowly, tone even. She starts to rise from her seat.

Roxas looks confused. "Why would Larxene know where he is? She doesn't have class with him today."

Xion shrugs before grabbing her book. "It's just a thought," she says and leaves the room.

—

They lie on their backs in the middle of the carpeted floor, their hair entwining (black with blonde streaks; blonde with black tips). It is too warm in the room but neither make an effort of moving to open the window or turn on the ceiling fan because they both know that it has nothing to do with the weather. "Why?"It is relentlessly prodding.

"Because I love her," she admits, her voice quiet, almost as if she is ashamed to say it.

"Why?" the question is repeated, heavy with inflection.

She turns away. "How am I supposed to answer that?" she snaps. After a few seconds she continues more gently. "Does it matter? You won't be satisfied with what I'd have to say anyway. . . I love her, and there's nothing more to it".

They lie in the room filling with silence from the bottom up, and to Xion, it's like drowning. "Whatever, I was just trying to help. Forget I said anything," she says, her tone curt.

Namine laughs, the sound of tinkling bells laced with cruelty. "Trying to help? Please. Help who? _Me_? Because it sounds like you're trying to help yourself". She stops, bites her lip. There is a sharp intake of air next to her before the sound of rustling fabric. Namine turns back just as Xion is standing. "Xion, don't. I didn't mean-"

She interrupts. "But you did". Her sentence is slow and pointed with a snail trail of emotion following it. "You did". She hovers before making her way toward the exit.

"Fine!" Namine huffs, sitting up. She watches Xion open the door. "Oh, and just thought I'd let you know, your eyes are a_ really _unattractive green," she snarls snidely.

Xion slams the door so hard it feels like Namine's world has crumbled.

—

Xion feels ill. It isn't the fact that she is stuck once again in Remedial French class but it definitely contributes. She scratches out _Memento Mori _on the front cover of her French book, it is a bitter reminder of how she was supposed to be in Advanced Latin but, of course, the school doesn't offer it.

Her partner slides into the seat next to her sporting a smirk that looked positively wicked with her electrifying green eyes. She is late, as she was every single class, but the professor doesn't mind, seeing as she is the only one who even made an attempt at caring. Technically, she isn't supposed to be in that class either; her French is on a much higher caliber than that of her peers but due to scheduling errors she is, like Xion, stuck. Xion's stomach nearly turned. _Great._

"Hey, what's up, _Carpe Dien_?" she says, ignoring the assignment being belted out by the teacher.

"It's _Carpe Diem_," Xion says, agitation practically rolling off of her in waves. Of all the people to get stuck with. . .

"Whatever," Larxene says, taking out a stick of gum and popping it between her peach colored lips. "_Je parle français. Latin est tres barbant_, _mon compain_".

Xion groans inwardly, not knowing anything she'd just said or caring. Before the class period was even half-way over, she's excused herself to the nurse.

—

It is pouring the next time Xion visits. The rain is hammering at the windows and thunder seems to be closer than ever when she enters the room. Namine is sitting with her back to the door, a chair facing out towards an open window. The electricity is out in the entire building and the only source of illumination comes from the evanescent lightning and streetlights from outside.

"Namine?" Xion says, uncertainty causing her voice to lilt. She throws her umbrella to the ground and rids herself of her coat. "Namine?" she calls again, voice louder.

The other girl doesn't turn around. It is some time before she speaks. "She's not here," she replies, her voice empty of anything; any joy, any sadness, it's just there. Xion of course knew better than to ask who wasn't there so instead she takes a step closer and lightning flashes as if in warning; the thunder outside makes more of a cracking noise than a boom. A fat raindrop sails in through the window and lands on Xion's cheek.

"Christ, is the window open? It's pouring out there!" Xion strides to the open window and raises a hand to close it, lightning flashes and she hesitates. She looks back to her companion, face blank and unblinking, sitting docile in her chair. Her face is wet, along with the rest of her body, but her eyes are red and that tells her all she needs to know. She leaves the window open and turns to Namine, her back facing outside and blocking most of the rain. "Shit, you're soaked. You'll catch your death," she mutters as she attempts to brush several wet locks of blonde hair back into place.

Namine flinches and turns her head away causing the other girl to withdraw her hand. "I shouldn't have. . ." she trails off and shakes her head. She looks up to Xion who is still poised by the window, her brow furrowed, her mouth a grim line of concern. She bites her lip and stares straight ahead as if she can see right through Xion. She looks, but she can't see. "Do you know what today is?" she asks, her voice almost inaudible over the sound of the heavy rain pelting the side of the building. Lightning streaked through the sky followed by crackling thunder. "It's the twelfth. Three years ago, we- we got together".

In the dim light, Xion sees Namine smile sardonically, it seems out of place on someone like her, almost disturbing. "It's. . .our anniversary," she says, a little bubble of hysterical laughter punctuating the sentence, or maybe it was a sob, Xion can't tell since the noise is drowned out by angry thunder. For the first time, she notices the medium sized box clutched so tightly in Namine's hands that her fingers are puncturing the wrapping paper. Xion reaches out but Namine recoils. "Don't". The word rings out, loud and clear like the peal of a bell. It is sharp but it is a hallowed needle. "I shouldn't have called you here. Any other day, it was alright but. . . Not today. You should go," she says, her body sagging in the chair. She's defeated and not in any position to give out suggestions and despite her words, the last thing she wants is to be alone.

Xion finally closes the window. Namine's eyes are welling up so she keeps her gaze straight ahead. "Come on, we need to get you dried off," Xion says, taking the soaked through present from her hands and flinging it to the ground. She contemplates if she should touch her or not and comes to the conclusion that the other girl won't move any other way. She grabs her hand and this time Namine doesn't resist or protest as she leads her to the bedroom.

"Thank you," she says, fighting to keep from crying. "For everything".

—

She finds it more bearable to hang around Axel than Larxene. She doesn't know why but maybe it just has something to do with personality or perhaps a conflict of interest.

Axel just seems like the cooler older brother type. He helps Xion with her homework and drives her places she needs to be and he stands up for her when Saix starts to act like too much of an ass. Plus, Axel always takes both she and Roxas out to eat, and every time he always pays. He treats Roxas well enough, he buys him things and never forgets important dates and he is almost always honest with him. Who could be mad at someone like that?

—

For the first time ever, at least when Xion had been over, they are both home. Larxene sits in an armchair, sideways, legs dangling off of the arms, clutching a book in her manicured hands. Naminé, however, lies on the floor watching television, her legs crossed at the ankles, not that it matters because her mid-length skirt rides up her thighs anyway.

Xion stands near the door, trying to figure if she should leave or stay. The room was filled with the heavy air of unsaid tension and she thought maybe if she came at a bad moment. She looked at the occupants, Larxene's jaw was clenched and she held her novel a bit too tightly and Namine looked at the t.v chewing her bottom lip, but whether she was watching or not was debatable.

"Are you just going to stand there like a stranger?" Larxene snaps, not looking up from her book for a second. With that, Xion almost turns around and walks right out the door but Naminé pats a spot of carpet next to her intended for Xion so she walks the few steps before sitting.

She looks back to Larxene who, after examining the book, was completely focused on Shakespear's _Othello_. Sniffing in disinterest, she turns back to the television to see what is on. Naminé had been watching an older film, a film Xion immediately recognizes as The Killing of Sister George.

The situation probably would've been funny if it weren't for the sick irony of it . Xion stands. "Excuse me," she says. "I just remembered, I have an appointment I need to tend to".

"You don't have to leave, you just got here!" Namine says, almost pleadingly. She grabs her hand as Xion starts to rise.

"I'm sorry, but I forgot all about it. I really should get going," Xion says staring pointedly at Larxene. Namine's eyes follow her gaze until it rests on her room mate.

"Oh," she says, and drops Xion's hand. "Okay, I understand". She nods, disappointment only evident in her eyes.

"Look, I'll come back tomorrow or something, its just I have somewhere to be is all". She turns and heads to the door. As she turns the knob, she hears Larxene speak

"It's about damn time. Honestly, all of your blabbing almost ruined the best part of the book for me". She turns a page.

"What part," Namine asks, standing to read over her shoulder.

Larxene grins and it looks more like a sneer. "It's the part where Othello kills Desdemona in his jealous rage". No one can hear the soft _click_ of the door closing over Larxene's laughter that sounds like tearing paper and malice.

—

Naminé always wears skirts. In the Winter, she'd wear long skirts. In the summer she'd wear short ones. And when it came to Spring and Autumn, it was usually something in between. Xion never understood how a person could not be girly, yet subject themselves to such awful restrictions.

Naminé cocks her head to the side and blinks before a smile spreads across her face. "I wear skirts because I like them. I think they're cute," she says. She pauses before slowly uncrossing her legs and recrossing them, letting one of her sandals dangle from her hoisted foot. "And I think they make _me_ look cute".

Xion doesn't mention it again.

—

"You sure are over at my place a lot," Larxene comments lightly as she doodles on the completely finished French packet that was handed out just last class.

"Yeah well I like to watch her work, and someone's got to keep Naminé company", Xion answers, her voice uncharacteristically cold.

Larxene blinks. "More power to you I guess. I don't see what can be so fun about being around a bunch of toxic, smelly paints".

—

"What are you doing this time?" she asks, peering over Naminé's shoulder.

The blonde grins and holds up her hands. "Finger painting, wanna help?" Xion looks from the canvas to the other girl's fingers and complies. She dips two fingers in the open containers of yellow and orange and she paints in a picture of a lopsided sun in the corner of the paper. She reaches for the next color and the next until her fingers are all used up and her hands up to her wrists were completely covered in paint.

Naminé looks at her, a mischievous grin snaking its way across her lips. She holds up her hands.

"Look," she says. "We match".

—

Everywhere they touch leaves a smear of rainbow: Xion's shirt hangs by her neck and a single shoulder, her bra removed, a red smudge between her breasts that links to the spot on each puckered nipple; green trails snake down her back; dabs of blue on her neck and collar bone. Naminé's skirt is hitched up to her waist, her hair, streaked with purple, halos her pink blotched face; orange and yellow fingerprints blossom across her rib cage; brown swabs cover her shoulders. They are breathing heavy but neither know if it's from the paint fumes or if the room's oxygen supply suddenly decreased, but right now nothing else matters because they need this more than brain cells or lung function or the ability to wake up the next day, unscathed. Black blurs are on the sides of Xion's hips and on the back of her thighs and white ones are on the sides and backs of Namine's and probably every color imaginable is in between. The world is gray, and they are the only colors left.


End file.
